


Stickin’ together

by sv962



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gavin Reed Not Being an Asshole, Gavin Reed is Bad at Feelings, Getting Together, M/M, Oblivious Upgraded Connor | RK900, Pre-Relationship, Soft Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29980455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sv962/pseuds/sv962
Summary: Nines knows Gavin has a habit of doodling on post-its. What he doesn't know is what he's always scribbling about.The perfect occasion reveals when the detective comes late to work.
Relationships: Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Stickin’ together

### Stickin’ together

RK900 was built for deducing.

He was Cyberlife’s finest, the pinnacle of android evolution, a perfectly crafted and functional machine built and coded to fight his kind on the cold and austere Arctic soil, his Kevlar chassis firm and strong enough to resist a downpour of bullets and still leave him standing on his feet with minor damage.

Working for the Detroit Police Department wasn’t exactly conforming to his programming: arresting criminals, going undercover, staying still for hours during stakeouts and sitting at his desk, compiling endless reports, and doing paperwork – _this wasn’t what he was built for or programmed to do_.

Nevertheless, he didn’t complain about that.

He applied for the department out of will, after being offered the possibility from Connor and Lieutenant Anderson, and not only he was gifted with the possibility of picking his own partner but he also miraculously managed to navigate and survive the relationship established with detective Reed after months of strived coexistence.

Reed put a strain on his processors with his almost unbearable attitude, _fascinating_ yet rather challenging for his poor social module to properly deal with, and it was no mystery that this could only lead to misunderstandings in their interactions, being all his behaviors intrinsically contradictory.

When Gavin told him not to piss him off or annoy him, his body showed signs of embarrassment for Nines’ timid displays of attention.

When he flipped him off as the RK900 brought him a cup of warm coffee to ease his workload, Gavin’s emerald irises got evasive and avoided making any sort of eye contact with the android, cheeks blushing in rose shades as the pupils mildly dilated, stomach tangling in a mixture of inexplicable emotions.

And even when the android covered his freezing shoulders with his jacket, as he surprised him shivering under the cold grasp of December, as the snow piled on his hazelnut and slicked hair, the detective took it without questioning and wrapped himself with it, muttering curses as he basked into the blissful heat.

There was no denying Gavin was interesting.

Nines wasn’t sure he perfectly understood what the concept of “ _beauty_ ” meant to most humans.

So long, he was under the impression beauty was something arbitrary, qualities that didn’t abide by a golden standard nor could be universally determined.

Lieutenant Anderson considered Connor beautiful but was rather indifferent to Sixty despite their appearance was as identical as human twins.

So it didn’t have much to do with _aesthetics_.

Officer Chen and Miller described different types of women as _beautiful_ , and it didn’t take him a second to realize that each one set the standards off their wives or their celebrity crushes.

So long, _beauty_ was a conundrum for him.

Difficult to tell for a freshly deviated android, especially since no one had the same opinion over different subjects. Things that he himself found interesting and worthy of attention, that he _dared_ to call _fascinating_ , were mostly incomprehensible to Connor.

When he shared with his brother the sensations of happiness and serenity he felt over contemplating a blanket with tartan patterns or the softness of stray cat’s fur, the crystallized structure of the sugar molecules that composed the detective’s milkshake secretly sampled when he wasn’t looking or fragments of his DNA, Connor always smiled at him and gave him tender and condescending stares.

He could tell his predecessor struggled to understand him, but this didn’t spare him of his sympathy.

It was only too late that he realized his folder on [ **Detective Gavin Reed** ] gradually occupied even more and more space on his disk and cloud, backups piling with each passing day.

Those that initially started as few kilobytes of notes and memos on the detective’s habits and eating preferences, _summed to the scarce biographic information he could procure on him from the Department’s archive_ , soon became gigabytes of heavily compressed audio-visual cuts of the moments spent in his company.

Some nights, when he entered stasis in his small box in the residential complex of New Jericho, he often spent his time reviewing the recorded contents of the past day.

Gradually, he realized he had a liking for the detective’s timid and bashful smiles, for his defiant laughs at Officer Chen’s remarks and jokes, and his genuine ones, that often brought tears to his eyes. That there was something inherently endearing to that always tired face, bearing scars of fights and untold stories as it squirmed with tenderness whenever he watched kittens or ferret videos on Tik Tok instead of working, as his jade eyes squinted as his frame slouched on the desk working a case.

And then, there it was the ultimate enigma, what kept him wondering and pondering way more than he liked to admit.

Gavin’s tendency to doodle with the pen or his munched pencil on the backside of the printed copies of his reports.

Initially, Nines didn’t pay any attention to it.

Humans always needed to be occupied with something and if doodling could help the detective deal with stress and tension, then be it.

No one was immune from the need to keep their hands occupied.

Connor used to play with his quarter of dollar between his knuckles, pulling tricks that always made Lieutenant Anderson’s eyes lit up like a child witnessing magic for the first time in their life, following the trail of the coin as it jumped with mechanical precision from a hand to another, never missing a catch.

And when the Lieutenant wasn’t busy with studying Connor, he often revised cases as he nudged and tilted his chin whenever he got an idea or felt the need to voice his perplexities.

Detective Collins kept a stimming toy in his desk drawer that he usually tormented whenever he was faced with an impasse and Agent Miller usually folded the edges of the pages to the point of bringing upon himself the wrath of one perfectionist Officer Person.

Nines was meant to be an RK800 upgrade.

It was blatant that he would pay even more attention to particulars.

His processors were way too powerful to be left idle and still, and they needed to be constantly occupied with something. There was nothing he tolerated less than boredom, not when his brain rain miles even when to the outer world he looked like a pillar of marble.

Yet he could barely understand why, despite his thirst for knowledge and information, he still irrationally fixated on detective Reed.

There was little denying that Gavin had a habit of doodling whenever he happened to have a pen between his fingers and a piece of paper in his immediate proximity.

After months of partnership, Nines could tell there was a pattern in his drawing routine and his notes and preciously guarded reports often showed tiny sketches of stick figures timidly holding hands.

Maybe the detective wasn’t the most talented artist out there but his dark and dilated pupils looked so lost and dreamy whenever he draped the ballpoint pen on the colored post-its or the grainy paper, sighing whenever he contemplated his drawings, and it was no wonder this would eventually set off the RK900’s curiosity.

And the perfect occasion revealed itself on a Wednesday morning.

Gavin was already thirty minutes late.

Perhaps Nines could take advantage of his absence to act out on his curiosity.

After all, in that precise moment, no one in the bullpen was paying attention to him – _people rarely did out of fear they could trigger any irate response out of him, his specifics unfortunately of public domain_ , so he could take advantage of that to peek into Gavin’s desk drawer, scan the hidden drawing inside and take the first thing he could find there – _a stapler could do_ , with the pretext of borrowing it.

The post-it was bearing two sketched stickmen: a taller one on the left, with a circle on its temple resembling an android’s LED and a strand of hair popping from its head, next to a shorter one with an askew line drawn on its face, so oddly resembling the detective’s nose scar.

On the side of the note, scribbled in cursive, was the writing: “ _Tin can x Trash Can_ ”.

His LED circled in crimson hues, as he now turned the small squared piece of paper.

“ _T.C._ ”

Two initials were reported in the back, as a caption.

His software suggested the letters probably corresponded to the first and last name of Agent Chen, detective’s Reed best friend and confidante.

The most reliable preconstruction he could think of was that officer Chen offered Gavin a post-it with a depiction of him and his partner engaging in a potentially and misunderstandable romantic effusion, and Reed decided to keep the present out of respect for his friend ( _or for the goliardic value of it_ ).

Which was odd, but still the only sensate hypothesis he could formulate, and that didn’t explicitly contradict the information at his current disposal about him.

After all, Gavin hated talking about feelings, he had an ambiguous stance on his tolerance towards androids and it was impossible computing that he thought at least once about Nines as someone to share a moment of intimacy with, no matter how often his cheeks blushed and his body displayed reactions of sexual arousal and emotional activation around the android.

And yet, that post-it was there, depicting he and detective Reed hand in hand, and was timidly treasured inside of a drawer that could be opened only by his fingerprints – _or hackable by any advanced android such as him or Connor_.

However, the stapler slid off his hands as soon as he caught a glimpse of a second post-it hidden beneath it, bearing a date.

[ **01-09-2039, 2.28** ]

Connor lifted his gaze from the terminal as soon as he heard the impact, and when he caught the RK900 standing frozen and unmoving in front of the desk, he immediately wirelessly reached out to him.

> || “ _Nines, what’s wrong?!_ ”.

He had no intention of scaring his brother with his preoccupied tones, but he knew better than anyone else how little navigated Nines was with the human world and how difficult it could actually be to interpret human behavior, especially for someone with rudimental social protocols such as the android.

The RK900 snapped out of his numb state the moment he accepted the communication request and slowly kneeled, now gripping the stapler off the ground and throwing the object back inside the drawer, just to hide his misdeed, despite keeping the drawing with the etched date for himself.

> || “ _Connor. Can you send me a recording of what happened before 2.00 and 2.30 pm on the 09 th of January?_”

The android cocked an eyebrow as he was met with his brother’s anomalous request.

Nines returned to his desk and tried to restore his usual composure, but between his hands was still the yellow paper, morbidly held it between his fingers as a relic. His eyes jumped from what was drawn or written over it and the gates of the department – _easily visible from his desk_ , now anxiously checking for the detective’s eventual arrival.

Connor was fast in recovering the footage – _as expected from his predecessor_ , and the RK900 now wasted no seconds as he proceeded on analyzing and eviscerating every millisecond of it, frame by frame, digging for a clue, curiosity taking an irresistible hold of him.

That day, he and Gavin returned to the bullpen at two in the afternoon, escorting a perp in shackles.

They should have taken care of the questioning together but detective Reed had already neglected his breakfast early in the morning and Nines insisted to keep the procedure on hold until Gavin wasn’t well-fed with something more nutrient and appropriate for his calorie intake than a granola bar accompanied by an espresso with a teaspoon of cane sugar.

Connor followed with a quirky and odd interest their debate and his footage was constellated by notes and commentaries over the detective’s behavior: Gavin’s accelerated heartbeat as he was reprimanded for not eating sufficiently well, the surprised way his brows cocked when Nines denied him to proceed to the questioning, the brunet’s hasted walk to the desk when his brother told him he’d buy something from the cafeteria and his nervous and anxious doodling with a nearly expired and over-used pen at his desk.

Nines remembered how long he had been absent from the station: 12,47 minutes.

Ten were spent in line at the cafeteria and two on deciding which takeaway lunch he should have picked, according to the correct calorie intake for the detective, given his weight, height, and level of hunger.

His walk was fast and quick and upon his return, his route to the detective’s desk was promptly and abruptly interrupted by Officer Chen.

Judging from Connor’s recording, that stop was planned ten minutes ahead of time and when the agent halted him, it was to ask an opinion concerning files she had just printed out, vague questions on whether the newly arrested perp’s fingerprints coincided with the ones found on the stolen rubins from the Jewelry in Milton Street two days before.

Now that he could examine all the circumstances in Connor’s mind palace, he decided to exploit the memories to focus on what the detective was currently drawing, assisted by the fact that his brother already decided to zoom in his activity, probably intrigued by the furtive looks Gavin kept giving at their exchange, monitoring how long Tina was actually able to keep him occupied.

The detective’s pen drew errant lines on the yellowed post-it.

A profile with a lightly pronounced nose, an eye seen from the side, a small and almost perfect circle retraced with a blue pen that vaguely resembled an android’s LED, an arched eyebrow _oh_ so narrow and thin, and then, with a highlighter, lines that undoubtedly colored the profile’s cheeks in tinges of azure.

Gavin timidly observed his creation before scratching his nose, nervously teasing the scar, and now traced, over the lips of his sketched portrait, what undoubtedly looked like a grin, the same one the RK900 used to wear whenever he tried to convey his genuine happiness or enthusiasm over something.

Now looking proudly at his drawing, he gently draped a knuckle over the blue cheek and reposed the post-it in the first drawer.

Connor had already zoomed in on the sketch and saved it in his databanks, and his analyses were now all over his HUD, recorded with the footage, for his successor to see.

[ **Gavin is head over heels for Nines** ]

When his brother came into his field view, holding the lunch bag as he offered it to the detective, he couldn’t ignore the second comment popping up on Connor’s HUD.

[ **Nines is completely oblivious about Gavin’s feelings for him** ]

Furrowing his forehead, he closed the file and still thanked Connor for sharing his memories, way too tipsy to let him know that the possibility that his feelings were reciprocated by Gavin was making him antsy.

His portrait on the post-it immediately made more sense.

So it wasn’t Connor who Gavin was drawing but it was him.

_Him_ , that Gavin observed all the time by deploying Officer Chen as a diversion, _him_ , that he decided to depict despite his uncanny smirk and the inhuman blue cheeks, the LED proof of his manufactured and artificial nature.

He put the drawing back from where he took it, and when his HUD notified him of the detective’s check-in at the gates, he returned to his desk.

Gavin had a still-warm paper cup of coffee on his hand and his hair was unkempt, hazelnut strands out of place, unlike his everyday attire. He distractedly laid his cup on the edge of the transparent glass desk and let out an exasperated breath of relief, so tired he could actually feel each of his bones ache.

«Holy shit. I swear to God, today I’m gonna die», no use acknowledging Nines when he was already this tense, «Don’t say a word, tin can. Princess phckin’ puked blood on the carpet, the car battery was dead and my credit card got declined so I couldn’t even pay the taxi to get to the vet. I had to walk there. Thank God the clinic‘s not too far away. I can’t feel my legs anymore. I hate my life. Today we’re _not_ doing fieldwork!».

RK900 jolted straight up from his seat.

«Princess is sick!?».

rA9 knew how much he loved Gavin’s cats, despite having seen them only twice in person and way too many times in picture, in the privacy of the detective’s car.

«She must have eaten a thread from a blanket. Girl’s always scratching her nails there. ‘s been trying to expel it for a while, but it didn’t look half as good. I ran to the vet as fast as I could. Thank God the doctor’s not in a hurry to get paid. They’re a treasure», he was still panting as he spoke and Nines didn’t doubt for once he ran more than he ever did to get in time for his job, despite being more than one hour late, «The vet told me as soon as the operation is over, they’re calling me. It’s... urgent».

Nines frowned and carefully cut his distance with Gavin, now leaning a hand on his shoulder, in one of the rare physical contacts the detective allowed him and barely deemed tolerable.

«Why didn’t you call me?», he asked in a note of concern, «I could have taken a taxi and come to help you. Or solve your credit card problem in less than five minutes. I could have hacked the bank or–».

«Hey no, no hacking, tin can. Seriously, leave that shit for investigation. And besides», Gavin shrugged his shoulders, now awkwardly shifting his gaze, avoiding the android’s, «I see you’ve already got your hands full with paperwork».

«You’re more important than mere work, detective»

Gavin gulped, throat dry as he could clearly feel a wave of warmth rushing up to his cheeks.

He quickly gave him his shoulders, slouching on the chair and spinning on it, muttering something incomprehensible even to the advanced android’s audio processors.

«If... you still want to come with me to pick Princess up, huh… I’d very much… like it», he limited instead to say after a loud throat-clearing noise.

Smiling in a timid and reserved grin, Nines did his better to not give away how happy he was with the proposal.

«Certainly, Gavin».

The morning slowly passed by.

The detective’s preoccupation for his cat was evident from his restless behavior, agitating, constantly moving and barely sitting properly on his chair, legs constantly shifting in the weirdest positions Nines ever witnessed and that barely looked comfortable for his bones and muscles.

Princess was young enough to have a high percentage of survival rate to the operation. A few stitches on her tummy and one or two weeks of convalescence and antibiotics would have solved the issue if the statistics he had access to were accurate.

Of course, this didn’t mean he downplayed the pain and distress Gavin was living through.

Deviancy already taught him that no matter how logical things looked, his circuits could always decide to trust “ _gut feelings_ ” over reason. This was also probably why he was tense and preoccupied too with the outcome of the operation.

Paperwork didn’t also sit among his favorite tasks, but working in front of Gavin meant he could at least monitor his vital parameters minute by minute.

As he wrote and digitalized the unconcluded cases from the recent two decades, revisiting the information at their disposal and maybe hoping in a clue that could have helped them close any of them, his mind inevitably wandered back to Agent Chen’s sketched drawing.

Gavin returned to doodle on his papers instead of working and when the RK900 gently reprimanded him, he could clearly see him blushing up to his ears, roaring a childish insult and flipping his finger at him before absent-mindedly returning to review the correspondence with Narcotics at his terminal.

The idea of emulating Gavin’s behavior came at him when he saw Lieutenant Anderson grinning and snickering to himself after plastering to Connor’s forehead a post-it with the writing: “ _Out of order_ ”, taking advantage of the fact that he was momentarily in a five-minutes induced stasis, working on installing a software update.

His brother would have undoubtedly noticed that as soon as he came back online, but for the moment, that was enough to trigger the Lieutenant and Agent’s Miller hilarity.

Gavin was way too preoccupied with himself to notice them.

Nines ripped a yellow post-it from an unused pile next to his terminal.

Now taking a pen between his hands, he soon realized he never used one before then.

His system only had one font installed, a default writing style called “ _Cyberlife Sans_ ” and shared by all androids. Some deviants recently updated the online Jericho’s platform with fonts they created themselves, but Nines didn’t feel like replacing his style with something created by someone else.

After all, he didn’t care for writing.

He just wanted to lift the detective’s morale and convey how much Gavin mattered to him.

And no better way of doing it if not taking example from him.

So he _did his homework_ , as Lieutenant Anderson loved to put it.

He checked for online references, and now timidly and awkwardly keeping the pen between his slender and long fingers, he drew two stickmen, intent in what looked like a vague hug. The taller one bore a circle that resembled his LED whilst the smaller one, giving the shoulders to a hypothetical observer, had two barely visible hair strands popping from his forehead, and his brows were furrowed just like the detective’s usually were.

Nines awkwardly completed the drawing, now adding the caption: “ _Phckin’ Android x Fucking Human_ ”, and opted to perfectly reproduce a heart emoji, filling it with the same blue highlighter Gavin used to tinge his cheeks days before.

Now studying the result, he proudly grinned.

He could see the notification popping up on his HUD on the improvise flux of thirium running to his cheeks, but he deliberately ignored it, now hopingly looking at his partner.

«Detective», he called him, covering with his open palms the drawing, careful not to smudge the still fresh highlighter color.

Gavin tore his gaze away from the monitor and locked eyes with the android’s silver irises: «What’s it, tin can? You found the intel Narcotics needed on Stone’s case?».

Shaking his head, the RK900 now lifted with his fingertips the sketched drawing.

When the detective’s expression contorted in an expression that almost looked like a bomb ready to explode in an outburst of rage, the android gave him a shy smile, and maybe it was because of that or because of his blushing cheeks and endearing gaze, but the anger dissipated almost instantly, as the detective remained for a few seconds in silent observation, frozen in place like a deer in the highlights, red like a chili pepper.

«T-The hell’s this thing», he grunted in a rebuke, barely holding back what didn’t look like rage anymore.

Nines offered him the drawing: «See, this is me hugging you, Gavin. Actually, this is one of the most recurrent preconstructions I’m running whenever I see you. Even at this moment, I’d very much love to be on the other side of the desk, just to hold you between my arms, comfort you, and better monitor your life parameters».

The android’s words worked their way up to Gavin’s heart, no wonder making him deeply blush up to the root of his hair, trembling from head to toe.

Holding the drawing between his shaking fingers, Gavin now carefully reposed it in the desk’s drawer. Distractedly checking out the bullpen, enough to make sure no one was paying any attention to their word exchange, he now acknowledged the android’s silence and stretched his arm where their desks joined.

Nines confusedly studied his gesture.

«Give me your hand», he dictated, giving him a sly look.

The RK900 didn’t question what he was ordered.

Grazing the humans’ dehydrated and rough skin, he gently leaned his open palm over it, letting the synthetic and morbid skin adhere to it.

Gavin was sweating nervousness from each pore of his skin, and there was no way the android wasn’t aware of it as he tried in every possible way to hold back his trembling, now scratching his beard before covering the android’s knuckles with his hand.

«Now do... uhm... that thing with the skin».

“ _With the skin?_ ”

Nines momentarily suspended his breathing subroutine.

Gavin, the man avowedly anti-androids up to a few months before, known as the most insufferable prick of the entire department, _second to no one_ , the person that notoriously had never been able to keep a partner for more than one week, the rudest and insensible, tasteless member of the police station, heartless gremlin and social climber, was now treasuring the android’s hands between his own as if they were made of crystal, terrorized at the possible idea of shattering them in a single touch.

When the RK900 let the fluid skin retract, revealing the liquid polymer chassis, he realized his fingertips pads were shining in cerulean hues as they collected all the information about the detective’s skin, feeling its texture, the roughness, and the callus on the pinkie, the intricate carvings of his fingerprints, its millimetric grooves and the chocolate dark hairs on the back of his hands.

Gavin was a marvel, a complex architecture of human harmonious randomness and his body temperature was sending signals of static and excitation through his system.

Holding the white knuckles between his own, the detective locked and intertwined his callous and rough fingers with the android’s smooth and synthetic slender fingers, and as soon as he realized the blue flooding on Nines’ face as paint pouring from a can, he noticed that the fluid skin not only retracted from the fingers and the back of his hands but also retreated from the wrists and up to the neck peeking out the black shirt’s high and tight collar.

«Gavin, your heartbeat is rising to 118 _bpm_. I’m detecting mydriasis, increased respiration, and cutaneous perspiration–».

«Shut the phck up, Nines», the detective held his silver gaze for a while before squeezing his hands with renewed energy, «You don’t hear me complaining that you’re bluer than phckin’ thirium in your face or that your poor excuse of a smile could still light the entire city of Detroit for the next decade. Nor that your stroboscopic thingie‘s been spinnin’ like a phckin’ disco ball».

The RK900 looked at his hands.

He very much loved the sensation of warmth coming from Gavin.

If possible, he wouldn’t have minded having more than that.

Gavin could see his smiles where they didn’t physically exist, he saw them in his azure LED, in his cerulean cheeks, in his timid grins, and in the way his skin faded out whenever he felt happy or embarrassed.

He could feel now a jolt of electricity running on his wires, from vertebra to vertebra of his titanium spine, a shiver that made his cables itch with desire, pervading his mind palace with the sweet wish of gently brushing them or letting the detective intimately graze them.

Softly letting go of his hands, he slipped away from the brunet’s hold, who now returned a much-surprised look.

«It’s an extremely pleasing experience, Gavin. And I’m positively sure I want to... further investigate it; if you pass me the term», he carefully said, before the detective could even protest at the broken contact, as Nines restored his skin over the chassis, from the now mole-studded neck down to the tip of his fingers, covering the cyan-glowing fingertips, «But I believe the bullpen isn’t the proper environment to explore our bond. Officer Chen just left the break room giggling. She’s headed to the restroom, and judging from the loud noises registered from the hallway camera, she’s probably screaming at the top of her lungs».

«Oh Jesus Christ», Gavin nervously laughed, hands sweaty and trembling as his cheeks burned hot as charcoals, «S-Shit, I guess we aren’t this stealth huh. Listen, i-if ‘s okay by you, we can go for a coffee before stopping at the vet to get Princess back, and... huh... have lunch together. I mean– I’ll eat and you’ll drink your blue gooey shit and you can do the phck you want to, be it hug or just hold hands–».

«Yes», the android rapidly cut him off, timid gaze now searching for his shy irises, the detective so embarrassed he was scratching his nape, as he vainly tried to escape the soft and silver eyes scanning and longing for him, «Yes, please. I’d very much love a hug».

Gavin cleared his voice, throat and stomach tightened in a knot.

«Perfect», he added, now removing some documents from the pile on the edge of his desk.

The RK900 grinned as he timidly returned to his work at the terminal.

It was only after thirty minutes that, in the loud chattering background noise of the bullpen and the constant coming and going of suspects, agents, and colleagues, he noticed something new was adorning the detective’s board, something that, immersed in his work, didn’t even notice at first.

A yellow post-it note, with a simple drawing and a caption in distinct Cyberlife Sans, glued with some tape next to the terminal, where it could be easily seen by everyone.

**「** **_Phckin’ Android & Fucking Human _ ** **」**

**Author's Note:**

> This had been sitting in my WIP folder for two years. God I can't believe I finally concluded this 😂  
> Thanks for reading! I loved working on "Accident" and now I'm trying to work on the WIPs I had and on new stories (they're a bunch so there's a lot of material that will come in the next weeks/months). But so long, thank you for following 💖💖💖 See you soon!


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